Children of Immortals
by Nobodythestormcrow
Summary: Thanos named himself the Mad Titan. "Titan" implies strength and power, yet it also denotes a fatal weakness."Bear your title with pride, for it dubs thee Titan's Bane. And it is the fate of Titans to fall to their children." Formerly called Of the Power of Names. Now a collection of drabbles.
1. Of the Power of Names

**All you need to know to read this is that a demigod has been captured (and tortured) by Thanos, and Nebula visits them.**

My father is a god, and I serve him as thou doest thine. My grandfather, however, is a Titan. Or should I use 'was'? For indestructible as my grandfather is, he has been made powerless to the world, and therefore, by what standard, is he existent? Voiceless, mindless, formless, no more than fragments of particles scattered across the cosmos by his children.

I see thy interest. Is it not so that thou art bound to thy father's service, a slave? Hating him and fearing him, despairing-nay, the spark of defiance is yet within thee, fed and fanned by hatred- _you_ are _strong_. Would you hear a tale from parched lips, in exchange for a drink of water?

* * *

Then let us start, as all things must, at the beginning. Titans, are, in the my world, the children of the _Protogenoi_ , those whose power is rooted in their element, in the earth and sky, in the bottomless deeps or boundless night. The lord of the _Protogenoi_ was Ouranos of the Skies, and his children, the Titans. The youngest son, my grandfather, gathered his kin, and together, they subdued the Skylord, and held him to the Earth. The hierarch neutered the former king, and cut him into pieces so that his power was broken. But before his demise, the fallen king cursed his usurper.

"Son", he said, "for the sins of patricide and regicide both, I curse thee. As thou hath struck blows against me, thy fate shall be no different from mine. As thou hath risen against thy father, so shall thy heirs arise to overthrow thee. Thy fate shall be set in adamant, and the fates' weave shall be tight and unyielding. As thou took thy father's throne, so shall thy children shall cast their father down in turn. Never shall ye sleep in peace, for thy slumber shall be fraught with terrors. Thy reign shall be precarious, and thou shalt live in constant fear, and thy head shall lie uneasy as it wears a crown, till it rolls from thy shoulders."

So, the Titan king did fear his children, and consumed them upon their birth. Yet no design of the Fates can be opposed, and what patterns they weave into their cloth are inescapable. That the Titan King would meet his doom at his children's hands, was a fate from which he could never flee, and circumstance made his father's curse true. His lastborn son freed his siblings five, and together they fled their father, who then thought that his might was such, that he was safe.

He was a fool.

His children came against him in battle, and they won against him. So was the doom of Ouranos fulfilled. The King of Titans was brought down, and his children rent him to motes and particles, and cast them into the Infinite Night. They triumphed against their father, and took the places of their forbears, and reigned victorious. For as ordained by The One Who Never Was Not, the young shall always be mightier than their forbears.

Thus is the moral of this tale, as was spoken by he who was lastborn to he who was lastborn to Ouranos. _**Fear**_. For it is the fate of Titans to fall to their children.

* * *

I tell you this, Starborn. The Mad Titan claimed you as his daughter, did he not? Bear your title with pride, for it dubs thee Titan's Bane. And it is the fate of Titans to fall to their children.

* * *

Now, is my tale worth some water? Or will you inflict upon your victim the suffering of dehydration?

* * *

You are surprised. Though my speech is archaic, I am not unlearned in modern sciences. It was one way in which I sought to make myself equal to my sibling, and gain my father's approval. Or do you think it coincidence that I respect you so?

We are both lastborn. And lest you forget, twas to the lastborn that the Titans fell.

 **The pronouns thou/thy/thee and the you/your were used to indicate respect, or the lack of it. Note how are unnamed demigod used thou/thy/thee with Nebula until realizing that " _you_ are _strong_ ". Then, Nebula is always addressed using you/your, while Ouranos talks to Kronos using thou/thy/thee.  
"Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown" is from Henry IV, part 2, By Shakespeare.  
I also have ideas for a fic that's a conversation about siblings, and the desire to please one's powerful parent.**


	2. Siblings and Fathers

She took in the seedy bar, no different from any other of the millions scattered across the galaxy, with its scantily clad whores and drunken patrons of all species. She took care to hide her face in the shadows—no telling who might recognize her and decide to collect the sizable bounty on her head, or just kill her for revenge. _Thanks dad_. In the first few months after the whole fiasco with the Orb, she would've welcomed the fight, welcomed the chance to let loose some of her pent-up rage, and reveled in the feeling of being free from her father's chains.

But this wasn't one of those times. She was tired. The only reason she kept going was the knowledge that somehow or other, she would kill her father, burn his fortress, and piss in the ashes. _A predatory smile, and eerie eyes staring at her from a child's face. "It dubs thee Titan's Bane, for it is the fate of Titans to fall to their children."_ A promise made by a prisoner. She had, initially, dismissed it as nothing more than an attempt to drive a wedge between her and her father. But the child's words stayed with her, wove their way into her thoughts, a tantalizing promise of what if? So, she held on to that spark of hope, and it turned her lethargic loathing of her father into a raging inferno of hate, so when the chance came to take her father down, she had grasped it with both hands.

But it didn't pan out. Ronan had been destroyed by her sister's rag-tag band of lowlifes and thieves, his fighters and warship brought down by the combination of self-righteous idealists and pirate scum. She had been defeated, yet again, by her sister. Familiar bitterness rose in her chest.

"It's never easy to be on the losing side of a war." A voice spoke from the shadows. Instinct had her pointing a blaster at its owner before she took in his appearance. Young, wiry, dark-haired, sallow-skinned. Terran, maybe. Wearing black clothes too big for him. Her cybernetics gave her more to go on. No implants, not even a translator chip—he was speaking Galactic Basic. There was an oddity in the thermal scans. They showed that the boy had a sword. Metal, but far colder than it should be, given their surroundings. The boy also had six-no-nine knives with the same properties concealed about his person, various metal trinkets, and a few other implements. His hands were on the table in a nonthreatening gesture, and his posture was relaxed.

"Aren't you a little to young to be here?" The boy looked around fifteen by humanoid standards, but as she herself proved, appearance was no sure indicator of age.  
He shrugged, drawing his legs onto his seat. The change in posture gave him far more freedom of movement, since his legs weren't blocked by the table. If it came down to a fight, he would have a split-second advantage in springing up to attack or dodge a blow. But in that case, she was confident that her enhanced reaction speed would give her an edge-the boy was speaking, in a casually quiet voice.

"—seventy-something, if you detract my birth date from this year. Besides, with all the illegal activities everyone here's involved in, underage drinking would be the least of their problems."

"You are seventy?"

"Or five, or fifteen, or some other age in between. Father stuck me and my older sister into a time-warp after uncle killed mother. He wiped our memories before that, so I only remember five years of life. I'm from the same era as crazy half-brother Hitler."

"Hitler?"

"The genocidal maniac who attempted the ethnocide of the Jewish race, and perpetuator of atrocities almost unmatched." He replied grimly. A tight smile. "On the bright side, he was limited to the Earth.

His cousins—our cousins won the World War against him. Naturally, my two uncles demanded reparations from father. Unfortunately, they learned little from mortal kind, so father became harsher, colder. Less willing to help his siblings. A bit obsessed with proving his superiority.

My sister and I were, in his mind, the keys to that. There was a prophecy, you see. It foretold that a child of him or his two brothers would cast their shared kingdom into desolation or raise it into greatness. He hoped one of us would be it. We were removed from the time-warp. We met our cousin, the greatest potential candidate, and our other cousin, whom our father had nearly killed. They didn't know of our parentage though. We met when they saved us from another faction, one that wanted our abilities for other purposes. I developed hero worship for them. I thought they could do anything. My sister left me alone, and went on a highly important mission. I asked for the cousin who was the greatest potential candidate to keep her safe. He failed. I thought that it was his fault, so I swore vengeance and ran away. I met them again while I was being taught by an old creepy ghost, tried to kill them, reconciled with my dead sister, and saved them. I also managed to prove myself not completely useless to father by overthrowing the ghost and claiming his title in the Underworld. A large amount of betrayals, struggles for my father's approval, and two wars, one against my grandfather the other against my great-grandmother later, we've mostly reconciled. I also managed to gain father's approval. As a result, I'm father's operative for anything off the books, as well as most things that require interaction beyond intimidation.

You don't have a monopoly on family issues. If you take certain lines of mythology to be true, your family dynamics were modeled on ours."

She bit back a snarl. The boy's story was intriguing.

"When I was with Thanos, I interrogated someone who spoke of siblings and a desire to please too. Did you know that prisoner?"

"Oh? Operative 8-5-6? You were spoken highly of. It was due to that encounter that I was sent here."

"That prisoner was executed."

"I am the son of the Silent One. I am King of Ghosts, Prince of the Underworld. **Death is no barrier**. A bit of trivia, since my doctor tells me to act more cheerful. Do you know that the Mad Titan's name is just Death with "at" removed?"

The switch between threatening and nonchalant was disconcerting, to say the least.

"—besides, war-time law gives us half-bloods far more leeway than peacetime measures That means I get to poke around with life and death and resurrections, and dad won't stop me, by the way. There's also the unfortunate fact that we get told more brutal and honest truths.

Most importantly? That we are born for war. We are spies and suppliers and soldiers, medics and weapons of mass destruction. Together, we children of our parents can, and have fought wars. We serve, we weep, we fight, we die. Sometimes, we betray. We fight our parents' wars, in the hope of a brighter tomorrow, or at least one that is no darker than today. We were born into our fates, doomed by our parents' union, abandoned until we were old enough to be enactors of their will. We were trained by life, the monsters that hunt us, then shaped by companionship and quests, small prophecies, irresistible forces that mold us, ineffably, into what we are required to be."

"Your people were not murdered in front of your eyes, while you were held still and forced to watch, then tortured and reshaped into a weapon. _We are not alike_."

The boy smiled. "Why don't you ask that question on the tip of your tongue? You seek to cast upon your father the doom of the Titans, compounded by the curse of the lastborn.

I talked with 8-5-6. Why do you think I am here? I extend to you an alliance. Even if you don't accept, I will give you what you seek. It is not much though. All the two curses do is alter probability, give your endeavor luck, maybe orchestrate crazy coincidences. That sort of thing. It won't suddenly grant you supernatural powers, or put you on equal footing with the Mad Titan.

That's part of why I offer you an alliance. We are the instruments of the wills of our divine "superiors". In peace, their grudges and conflicts are played out through us. We are skilled, even talented, at subverting beings far more powerful than us. Besides, we also know about an awesome other pantheon, with an organization that is trained to fight gods. They have a very dangerous technique that can literally unmake someone. It's got a load of really stringent circumstances for its use. Still, it might be useful.

Your choice?"

 **I'm experimenting with a new writing style, so if this is terrible, please leave feedback. Prompts, Comments, and Suggestions are all appreciated!**


	3. AMW: Nectar and Ambrosia

**This isn't a monologue, but a small snippet about the demigods on earth fighting against HYDRA. It's set a long time before Chapters 1 & 2\. In the MCU timeline, it's soon after Loki's failed invasion of Earth. It will be part of a series of one-shots, which I will Label AMW (A Mortal War) mostly exploring potential uses of demigod abilities when fighting a secret war against squishy humans. So it's storyline that runs parallel to Operation Theta, which is about two OCs infiltrating the Red Room, set between _Avengers_ and _Captain America: The Winter Soldier_. **

**This will include such things as creative utilization of the properties of such things as Nectar, Ambrosia, or Celestial Bronze, as well as just how terrifying a demigod on the battlefield may be, e.g. Percy when fighting against Akhlys, and his controlling of her poisons. Note, however, that different demigods will not have the same opinions on what crosses the line, so to speak. So, while Percy has the power to wipe out a base, he won't use the Akhlys-defeating technique, as he promised Annabeth not to. There will also be differences in how siblings differ in their skillsets due to differing personalities. For instance, while Percy will be hard-pressed to create a sharp-edged blade with water (since water is a liquid, and a liquid blade is hard to visualize, and even harder to control properly), he can easily create a mini-flood, due to his vast reservoirs of power. His OC sister, Petra, is nine, a bit on the quiet and meek side, bookish, shy, and has the potential to be coldly ruthless. She has had blood on her hands since she was born. As a result, she is capable of creating sharp or counter-intuitively thin manifestations of water, and I plan for her to learn enough anatomy to cause major damage to a victim's organs with minimal effort through hydrokinesis. This requires less power, but far stronger will and visualization, as well as a personality that can choose to murder those that can not fight back.**

 **Thoughts?**

* * *

A mortal war.

Demigods and the House of Life exist to protect mortals from those mightier than they. But mortals have now become the greatest threat to civilization, and Hydra hunts those that are more than human. Mortalkind has threatens its guardians.  
Let them witness the devastation wrought when the weapons for their protection are turned against them.

* * *

For the gods, they are food. For demigods, they are a panacea. For mortals, they are anathema, "turning their blood to fire and bones to sand".

In short, they are the perfect tool for assassination.  
Nectar and Ambrosia smell tempting, like one's own comfort food, that one dish that is closest to one's home and heart. Even mortals are attracted. This makes the sustenance of the gods appear innocuous, for who would see death in something so pleasant? Their scent draws victims like moths to a flame, circling, circling, forever closer, until they touch it and are immolated. Demigods know that they are dangerous. Their explosives, made with the substance known as Greek Fire, contains the food and drink of the gods.  
These two substances are selective in those they harm. The lethal dosage for a mortal is infinitely low, while for demigods, it would take far more to just induce feverishness. A spiked drink or a shared dish and while one dies, the other is unscathed, perhaps even rejuvenated for their escape from the locale. A man (or woman) bursting into flame is rather eye-catching, after all. The same substances coating steel blades, or an injection of nectar would also do irreparable harm to those of the mortal coil.  
They are also useful for destroying bodies. Slip a drop into a fallen enemy's mouth, and so long as the corpse isn't brain-dead yet, all that will be left of the corpse would be ash. On that note, suicide pills function along the same lines, though the dosage must be more potent.  
Nectar and Ambrosia are good for more than healing. It is a fool who forgets that the original purpose of these children's existence was to create a war machine. And in this war in the shadows, nothing is not a weapon.

* * *

 **Prompts, criticism, and reviews are welcome, as always!**


	4. AMW: Rivers of the Underworld

**Yes, this references** _ **Supernatural**_ **.**

There are five rivers of the Underworld. Lethe and Styx and Cocytus and Acheron and Phlegethon. They differ in their effect upon their victims, but their essence is the same. They are the rivers of the realm of the dead, its moats and its ducking ponds. They ensure the security of Hades' realm and the suffering of his serfs.

Phlegethon is the sustainer. It is the artery of Tartarus, the energy of Hades, all of its measly vitality. It flows under the gardens of Persephone and her husband's palace, fuels the sun in Elysium, and runs through the fields of pain and suffering as it chains the tormented to eternal wakefulness.

Its counterpart is Cocytus, the sluggish vein to its red-golden arterial rapids. Sorrow leads to despair which then leads to the sleep of death—or is it the sleep of the dead? Either way, few pass it without losing their will to live. They drown in despair, and do not escape, collapse catatonic upon its icy banks. Cocytus is a moat.

Born of Cocytus is the Acheron, suffering, pain, and most crushing of all, guilt. It is one of the two rivers which water Nyx's Nightmares, the other being Phlegethon. To stand by the streamside would break a lesser man, or even a greater one, for is it not the greatest who shoulder the heaviest burdens and suffer the greatest losses? No untrained mind survives a submersion into its unfathomable depths, and it is tempting, so very tempting, to give in, to slip into its waters—you deserve no better, after all. Acheron breaks the righteous and the good. It shatters and shapes the steel-spined into self-recriminating wrecks.

Then there is the Styx. It is the border between life and death, liquid, all-consuming hatred. It burns cold until it is cold enough to burn, it is acid, corrosive, clogged with broken dreams and traversed only by Charon's ferry. The Styx is the ultimate and outermost moat of the land of the dead, the first and last defense. You notice that there have only been four rivers written here. The fifth is Lethe. Oblivion. Non-being and the void. A concept beyond mortal comprehension. Of Hades' rivers, it flows apart, never converging into the witchfire-filled marsh with the other four. The rivers above were introduced in the order of usage. When a soul rebels, it is first tortured with fire, and when fire does not destroy it, despair will neutralize it. Like a song,

If that despair doesn't work,

Then guilt's river will make you hurt;

And if guilt is truly not enough,

The Styx will certainly be up to snuff.

Sung to the tune of "Mama'll buy you a mocking bird", this refers to the escalating series of procedures a dangerous soul will be subjected to. If none of the above methods work, then the final solution is complete erasure from existence. Lethe is a permanent solution to troublesome souls, and its potency only increases with prolonged exposure. Certain spirits and divinities may have some degree of immunity, but the closer they go to the origin of this river that, according to Dante, flows from the steps of God's throne, and which, according to the lore of Night's Queen, eldest and endless, originates from the entity who was the end, as Yahweh was the beginning, Amara. Lethe is the end of all things. For without memory, without experience, without life, there is no identity. A blank slate, wiped clean. No skill, no talent, no desire. All that ever made an individual now gone, leaving a _Tabula Rasa_ in its place.

That is the answer for "dispositions". Imperfect erasure results in bleed-through from previous lives. That, combined with the uniqueness of each shell of flesh, combine to create a new person.

* * *

Among those god-touched children of two worlds, there is a prince of the Underworld. Access to its resources is easy. The dead's suffering becomes the succor of the living.

 **Reviews, prompts, and advice are always appreciated!**


	5. AMW: Lethe

**So, I wanted to try a different style, since the only person who talks like a Shakespeare character is 8-5-6, whom we have met in Of the Power of Names. This is supposed to be easily readable.**

 **A bit of original terminology: MD, not for Medical Doctor, but Multiple-Dimensioned, as in existing between two worlds—the mortal and the mystical.**

* * *

 _Excerpt from the Introduction to AEGIIIS, the general operative's guide._

 _Advanced_

 _Extraterrestrial_

 _General_

 _Intelligence_

 _Investigation_

 _Interaction_

 _with the_

 _Supernatural_

* * *

 **LETHE**

* * *

Lethe is the easiest of the rivers really. Hypnos's cabin has a branch that drips its water, infused though it may be with the god's power, and mixed with a touch Cocytus's soporific mist. Burn an offering to the poppy guy before taking a bowlful and you're all set! Then you bottle all the stuff into more manageable portions.

Small 5-milileter ampoules are more than enough to take away a few weeks of memories, while one-milliliter ones take care of a few days. Amnesiacs that erase hours are contained in small pipette bottles, and even they are prone to overdose. A preferred method of application is, believe it or not, a fountain pen. Fill the pen with Lethe-laced ink, scribble on your victim's tongue, and ta-da! Instant mind-wipe with a handy knock-out function attached. According to Forgery Division, Lethe ink is also used to write letters to influence people mentally. Sort of like a contact poison. R&D&S (the "S" stands for sorcery) also make Lethe hydrogel bandages for incapacitating enemies.

For the high-tech applications, you also get aerosols—don't breathe them in, mortals might be more vulnerable, but the standard concentration is perfectly effective on us MDs unless your name happens to be Percy Jackson/Nico di Angelo. Delayed detonation times and stuff are standard, so, ask your mentors about that when you get to the PracApp part of your training.

* * *

NOTES:

The water of oblivion belongs to the darkest category of tool that any operative will ever use. It deals directly with the mind and identity, and their rewriting. This is the most immoral of actions, the subversion of the mind, for the alteration of the mind is the alteration of the self, and the erasure of the mind is the erasure of the self, both are the death of identity, and a travesty far transcending murder. Lethe is permanent, and while death is reversible, and the soul is unchanged after a body breathes its last, the unmaking of memory is a null that is an absolute termination of one.

That is far worse than murder, which is only the displacement of a soul from this mortal coil.

* * *

 **As always, advice, comments and prompts are welcomed and appreciated!**


	6. AMW: Phlegethon

_Excerpt from the Introduction to AEGIIIS, the general operative's guide._

 _Advanced_

 _Extraterrestrial_

 _General_

 _Intelligence_

 _Investigation_

 _Interaction_

 _with the_

 _Supernatural_

* * *

 **SUPPLY: PHLEGETHON WATER (CANTEENED)**

* * *

The Phlegethon is the River of Fire (different from the Egyptian Lake of Fire), and its waters are easily distinguishable in your standard pack. They are in a metal canteen, since they look and behave like liquid fire, giving off light and heat, which might give away your position or identity. The Phlegethon is also called the River of Healing (see UNDERWORLD: LOCATIONS/RIVERS/PHLEGETHON for specifics). While its waters are less effective and much more painful than Nectar and Ambrosia when it comes to healing, there are certain advantages:

1\. SAFETY: Unlike Nectar and Ambrosia, there is no risk of overdose. **However,** Phlegethon water is very painful, and overdoses may result in trauma despite the MD disposition against PTSD. Remember! This comes from the underworld and is used to torture damned souls!

2\. UNIVERSALNESS: Phlegethon water is safe for mortal consumption, but with the same restrictions above.

3\. VERSITALITY: Though the water is used for healing, it is fire made liquid, so it can substitute as flame in a pinch!

4\. EFFICIACY: Phlegethon's water may not heal like the food and drink of the gods, or the Egyptian's potions, but it maintains. It is of the Underworld, and so long as there is life in a body, it will keep Death at bay.

As a result, there are many applications for it. The most common are the following, but creativity and out-of-the-box thinking may just save your life some day, so don't limit yourself to these!

1\. Disinfection

2\. Healing

3\. Refueling

4\. First-aid on mortals. NOTE: best used in conjunction with Lethe.

5\. Light. Pour some into a glass container, and you get an instant smokeless torch, but have caution, for in addition to light, fire give off heat.

6\. Fire-starting. In the absence of matches or lighters, pour a small amount on tinder to light a flame.

7\. Last-resort life support. See above for risk. Usage is unadvised without a trained medic or unconscious patient.

8\. Interrogation.

* * *

 **NOTES:**

* * *

Lethe and Phlegethon represent the dichotomy of oblivion and eternity. Both are inflicted only upon the guiltiest and the most dangerous. While Lethe neutralizes dangers, it is Phlegethon that tortures. It prevents respite from suffering, chaining the victim to the eternal torment of consciousness. Though to some, complete unmaking is a travesty far greater than endless pain, it is nigh impossible to maintain those values when chained in the river, drowning in flame and burning inside and out. Fire in the lungs and no air, light-headed but never the merciful reprieve of darkness, pain, heat so great that it was cold, yet unlike with a body of flesh, the nerves don't fry to grant unfeelingness. Phlegethon is the pain of the body, and it breaks many. It is Tartarus' arterial blood, red and spurting too, so it is life in death. Mistress of this river is the Nightmare Life-in-Death. As described by _The Rime of the Ancient Mariner_ ,

 _Her lips were red, her looks were free,_

 _Her locks were yellow as gold:_

 _Her skin was as white as leprosy,_

 _The Night-mare LIFE-IN-DEATH was she,_

 _Who thicks man's blood with cold._

To turn the pain of the dead into aid for the living is as great defiance of death as the resurrection of a soul, and it is also a reflection of the beauty of the power of those who live in more worlds than one. The ability and access of the divine, combined with mortal ingenuity and their disregard for rules make them able to accomplish much more than a denizen of the single world. The price for this is obvious: they will never belong. Whether as hidden gods among men, or as mere men among gods, they are different, and no matter how integrated they are, they will always have a foot in another world. For most, this is the state of affairs, and they live lives that are, if not happy, then at least full and not unwelcome. Beneficial to this state of affairs is the company of those with similar experiences. For that reason, isolation and exclusion, whether out of fear or awe, is as great a sin as using racial slurs or objectifying individuals, and it has far more drastic consequences. Suicide, defection, snapping and murdering everything within reach have all been results of isolation.

Thus, though it is immoral and pointless to command the hearts and minds of you all, remember, so long as this shadowed war continues, _no one shall be broken by solitude, whispers, or mockery_. Let this Stygian Oath, sworn with blood and tears and sorcery, **BE MADE KNOWN**.


	7. Styx

_Excerpt from the Introduction to AEGIIIS, the general operative's guide._

 _Advanced_

 _Extraterrestrial_

 _General_

 _Intelligence_

 _Investigation_

 _Interaction_

 _with the_

 _Supernatural_

* * *

 **STYX**

* * *

This is liquid hate. For practical purposes, it is a selectively corrosive substance which gives all the hate directed towards an object physical form. For example, in the case of a lock, the application of Stygian water will destroy it, because odds are, at least someone has felt hate towards the thing, and Stygian water will make that hatred manifest as acid and destroy the lock. The more hate felt, the stronger the effects will be, so while generally, you'll be okay using SW in a villain's lair, it'll be iffy in normal life, though you'd be surprised at how much hate paperwork suffers in an office.

Don't use without supervision kids, but since this is a **Supernatural Resource** , there's no need to worry about reverse engineering, so you don't have to worry about preventing the stuff from falling into enemy hands.

* * *

NOTES:

Styx is the moat of woe, resting place of lost and broken dreams. It is the hatred made liquid, ire made corporeal, all the bitterness a mortal feels in a life. Though some may say that emotion is never hurtful, let this be proof of the opposite: feeling is power, and it is dangerous, as anything and everything is dangerous. Be cautious, agent, and use your power well.


	8. Cocytus & Acheron

**On a side note, never, ever go into the Apollo or Nemesis is the last chapter of Rivers, and afterwards I'm taking prompts! If there is anything you want to see, drop a review and I'll find a way to stick it into the fic.**

* * *

 _Excerpt from the Introduction to AEGIIIS, the general operative's guide._

 _Advanced_

 _Extraterrestrial_

 _General_

 _Intelligence_

 _Investigation_

 _Interaction_

 _with the_

 _Supernatural_

* * *

 **Cocytus & Acheron**

CLASSIFIED

* * *

 _On a side note, Apollo is god of truth as well as healing, and those who know how to fix people are the ones best versed in breaking them. There's a reason why Apollo's cabin is shining gold-gold does not rust or corrode, which makes it optimal for getting splashed with bodily fluids ranging from blood, sweat, and tears to the nastier ones, like vomit and excreta i.e. urine and stool. Nemesis, on the other hand, represents retribution. Acheron speaks to a desire for atonement, and the darker extremes of it include self-harm, selling your soul, or seppuku. Nemesis' get are born to the Courts of Night and Day, and the rivers of the netherworld are their birthright. As Apollo's darker children are skilled in the physical aspects of interrogation, Nemesis' scions are talented in psychological breaking. Waterboarding taps into the primordial fear of drowning-aquaphobia, but waterboarding with Cocytus and Acheron? It evokes guilt so painful and crushing that it can turn the most fanatical of people into whimpering, weeping, gibbering messes on the floor. A bit of well placed kindness, and voila! Instant confession. A bit more fine tuning and you get your own brainwashed expendable weapon!_

* * *

NOTES:

These are the rivers that were made to torment, one birthing the other. if ever you find yourself near them, 'ware their thrall and do not heed them. Their song is one sung with tongues torn from Sirens, dark and accusing and painful. Perseus Jackson, Achaius, stood but on its banks, and was tempted to its deeps, held back only by love and loyalty. If ever you find yourself broken by its power, remember this: there are those that love you, and bonds that carry.

If you believe you do not deserve kindness, remember this: kindness is oft given freely, and you are greater than you have ever imagined. If you are possessed by the desire to rid the world of your presence, remember, your life is not yours to end, merely to live.

If by the banks of Pain and Sorrow, you are unable to muster the strength to resist, think this sentence: You have no right to end your life, to allow yourself the luxury of stepping into the river, for your worth is but in your ability to fulfill commands, and it is the will of your superiors that you live.

* * *

 **As always, advice, comments and prompts are welcomed and appreciated!**


	9. Nomes

**Sorry for the hiatus, but I should have more time to post now! Without further ado, onto the first Egyptian snippet, _Nomes._**

OR: three hundred and sixty secured and warded safehouses hidden from mortal eye. Aren't you a bit terrified?

There are 195 countries in the world, 194 excluding the Holy See, 195 locales again once factoring in Antarctica. Every locale has its own Nome, with the rest of the 165 being assigned about the globe based on population and other factors. The basic math is 360-195=165 (Nomes) 100%÷165≈0.6%, which is the percentage of population to be assigned an additional Nome. There are other factors, for instance, the further a place is from the west (and Egypt), the greater percentage of population a Nome is responsible for. In the heartlands of the East, a Nome will be assigned for every 0.4 billion people (approx.) (5.4% of the global population), while closer to the West, a Nome might be assigned for every 14,000,000 people—0.2%-0.3% of the population.

* * *

Every Nome is a fortress, connected by the Duat, communicating via scrying. They aren't impregnable, but they are close. Some Nomes are young, others are old.

The young are modern, faux-classical, but fitted with modern conveniences, and cutting-edge mortal technology augmented by magic. They are the newly risen noon-day suns, blazing with vitality, challenged, and not found wanting, a mix of the best of two worlds. Springs bubbling with clear water, fresh and sweet and unending, shifting swiftly.

The old are old, the last remnants of an era long-past. As assured in their might as an old oak that has weathered many storms, as certain as the ocean in its bottomless power, ancient, arcane, vast. Wards set when gods walked the land and then modified to repel even those primeval forces of creation, most certainly not lacking in power. After the plague of the firstborn, _who killed the Pharaoh's son? 'Twas certainly not a seraph, nor archangel or cherub. I did, said the mourning man, greatest of magicians, for I am Dusk, who serves most loyally, yet this was too much to ask of me, and so I seek vengeance for those whose blood stained my hands yester-night, when I slit their throats and was not seen_ , subtlety was shown to be just as much a threat as unmatchable power, so they then evolved, and no spy may walk into its halls, wards set to guard against both avenues of attack, subterfuge and strength both, tested over centuries adding on into millennia by every manner of assault, learning and improving evermore. There are only so many angles of approach, and time has revealed every one. Tolkien once said _The old that is strong does not wither_ , and he was not wrong.

The Nomes are nexuses, conglomerates of power. The House of Life has emerged from its nadir, and waxes towards its zenith. These nexuses swell and strengthen, and their hearth-fires burn bright with protection. They will shield, and no one uninvited may penetrate its walls.

* * *

 **HYDRA**

Observation & Analysis Report

SUBJECT: "vegan" saboteurs (non-animal-fiber wearing assaulters)

OBSERVATIONS: capable of long-distance, untraceable, near-instantaneous transport, possible global network, no success in locating safehouses.

* * *

 **SHIELD (AHR) _after HYDRA reveal_**

Agent Smith (stop it, he's heard all the jokes and they stopped being funny after the fifth time. _This was the six hundred ninety-fifth time, thank you for asking_ ) was hiding. His cover had been blown, and his former "boss" was sending men after him like there was no tomorrow, he was cornered, and no help was coming. All he could do was hope. They hadn't noticed him hiding behind the dumpster yet. He prayed.

Without warning, two hands jerked him back into the wall. He fell through ( _was that a hologram?!_ ) with a thump. He was surrounded by teenagers, all in varying states of armed and ready for battle (or at least that was what they looked like, even if his brain shut down at the idea of pajama wearing teenagers preparing for battle with boomerangs _were they ivory oh divinities above were they the children of poachers and mafia dons and poachers and are taking him for ransom_ and wooden sticks. Before he could panic, a woman in standard SHIELD uniform came forward, displaying a SHIELD badge _not that they were worth anything what with HYDRA in SHIELDohnowhatifshe'sHYDRAandtryingtobrainwashme she'slevelfour? HELP!_

"I'm sure that you are confused, disorientated, and perhaps nervous, Agent Smith." She said, calmly, like she was very used to terrified level two agents being dragged in by _was that a CAT!?_ "This is perfectly normal, but your reactions are unnecessary. These teenagers are, in this case, allied to us, and have kindly provided their dwelling as a base. You need not worry about the kerfuffle happening outside, and may debrief, rest, and assist with the extraction efforts for this area. SHIELD is less disorganized than it may seem at first glance, and we were not… caught on the back foot, so to speak, when it came to the _infestation._ We are now regrouping and recovering in preparation for global counter-extermination operations once HYDRA has let its guard down."

She smiled a bloodthirsty smile.

Smith _meeped_.

"Then they will have a taste of their own medicine, and we'll let them see how _they_ like it."

It was true then, the higher your rank, the crazier you were, and if you weren't, then clearly you were HYDRA.

* * *

 **As usual, prompts, comments, and criticism appreciated!**


	10. Sacrifice

You can not sacrifice that which you do not own. You can not buy power with that which is another's. Alcyoneus could not be risen save by Marie Lévesque's willing offering of her life, and the acquisition of a fragment of the universe that was is no different.

Here's the problem. Thanos stands upon the altar, dragging Gamora by force. He wishes to cast her off it to trade for the Soul Stone.

He is a fool.

Marie Levesque stands in an underground cavern, looking at a bulb holding the doom of the gods. Her patron wants her to give her life to resurrect the death of Death.

Gamora can stands on the altar, her death the key to Thanos destroying the world.

Marie Levesque's daughter is held hostage, and she stands helpless within Gaea's dominion.

Gamora can't escape.

What can be done?

A future lies ahead of both the Guardian of the Galaxy and the Daughter of the Wealthy One.

The world is at stake.

What can a mere individual do?

Even when death is inevitable, choice will remain. The manner of death, how one greets one's imminent demise. The purpose of death, what one judges worth traversing for the last time the River Styx. The meaning of death, in the end, how one interprets the departure from the world of the living.

Choose.

Hazel and her mother rejected Gaea. Neither died for her cause. Neither of their souls were given onto the goddess.

Gamora?

She is not Thanos' daughter. That is her choice. No one can own you save for yourself. She rejects his claim. It is her right. She is Gamora, hero, not Gamora, pet killer. She is a Guardian of the Galaxy, not some trophy from a ravaged world. She will not die for Thanos.

And Thanos?

He forgets it. He forgets that he had no right to decide for the countless lives of the galaxy, of which Gamora is one. He forgets, has never learned, that his only power is the power of domination, to with force cow, and that such power is weak. It only takes a single refusal to break it. And when Gamora has nothing and everything to lose? That "no" is easy.

"I can walk." Says the woman.

It is allowed by the fool.

The woman walks freely to the edge of the precipice.

The surest escape from the mundanity of villainy is to teleport into the tragic realm, and this is a tyrant who fancies himself a tragic hero. He hopes that his daughter will not force him to make the last step.

Gamora takes the leap.

Who sacrificed?

Gamora is Gamora's. Gamora gave her life for her ideals. Thanos was but the ferryman. Twas Gamora who sacrificed herself, not the Mad Titan. The Mad Titan could no more claim mastery over her than he could any other being, no more than he could consider himself Rocket Raccoon's master, or Wanda Maximoff's.

Gamora falls. Then she wakes in water, a golden stone in hand.

She has been judged worthy.


End file.
